The Prophecy
by Telumiel
Summary: the breaking of the Founders of Hogwarts and how that set future events in motion...re-write of the OotP prophecy


This is a little something I put together for Mirax. She going to write the correct version of the 5th book and needed a better prophecy. As the resident prophetess, I voluteered. With the help of my toilet-scrubber-wielding muse, this is the result.

Obligatory Disclaimer: No, I don't own HP. Because if I did...shakes fist at JKR...but enough ranting...here is (drum roll please)...

The Prophecy

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It was a clear and calm afternoon at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All of the students were in classes with their teachers, and Headmaster Griffindor was in his tower study, rummaging and pondering as only Headmasters can do. His peaceful quest was abruptly disturbed when an imposing figure in black robes swirled into the office, darkening the sky with his entrance.

"What is the meaning of this?!" A claw of a hand was latched onto the shoulder of a small terrified boy whom he had drug in behind him. The darkly robed wizard swung the child in front of him and toward his fellow founder of Hogwarts.

"I would appreciate your knocking, Salazar." Came a steady voice from behind a mountain of manuscripts and scrolls. "Especially since this is a burning day for Ridley." The pointed cap that was Godric Griffindor nodded toward a rather sickly looking bird perched on a golden stand a good distance any of the manuscripts. There was some shuffling of paper, and a sturdy, grizzled wizard in red robes rounded his study hole. "I would also appreciate your not needlessly alarming my students."

"YOUR students are exactly what we must discuss," snapped Salazar.

Godric's left eyebrow merely arched in response. Without taking his wizened eyes off of Slytherin, Griffindor addressed the first year, who was looking nervously from headmaster to headmaster, "Timothy, you may return to your class."

"It is MY class that is in question," roared Slytherin.

"In that case, you may return to Professor Slytherin's class." Before the dark robed wizard could protest again, Godric added, "Tell your classmates to use this period for a study hour. Slytherin and I must discuss some school matters."

Timothy scurried hastily toward the door, but Godric's voice stopped him at the door, "Oh, and ask the Headmistresses to join us."

It was several minutes later that Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff knocked and glided into the room. Griffindor and Slytherin were still staring at each other, one with composed intensity and the other pure fury. Quickly assessing the situation, Rowena cast a dampening spell on the room so that none of the students would be able to eavesdrop on what looked to be another loud disagreement, which promptly commenced.

"Thank you, Rowena. Now what seems to be the problem, Salazar?"

"You know exactly what the problem is."

"I thought we solved that problem with my Sorting Hat. The students that would best thrive under each of us are put into our house."

"That still does not address the fact that I am now expected to reach these students that you have accepted into your pitiful excuse for a wizarding house!"

"Timothy is a capable student. He is quite brave to come to us."

"Which begs the question. He hasn't an dram of wizarding blood in him!"

"But he has the talent and the courage to use it!"

Both of the wizard's voices had escalated to shouting by now, fighting not only each other but also the howing wind raging outside the castle. Helga stepped between them, her head bumping their chins.

"We have gone over this before. We have not right to deny what nature has not. That was the decision. This continuous cock-fighting does not serve the school or the students." The witch may have been the smallest of the founders, but she was the glue. Her patience was what had kept them through the difficult years of founding. But she was beginning to stretch. Godric and Salazar's arguments were getting more and more difficult to resolve peacefully, and she knew that soon she would have to show where her loyalties lay.

"If a student has been accepted in one house, he is accepted into the school as a whole," Rowena reasoned. "And each class is apart of school just as each house is equally a part."

"Again, that begs the question!" roared Salazar. "Your house may have accepted them, but mine has certainly not. That they were not worthy of Slytherin is proof enough that they are not worthy of this school!"

Helga's compassion quickly came to the surface. "Surely you cannot mean that. Not with the Muggle politics the way they are. To throw any of these children out could quite possibly mean their death!"

"Remember why we built this school, to train our young ones to live in this world we will bequeath them." Godric had calmed considerably since the arrival of the Headmistresses.

"You want to teach these children to protect themselves from Muggles, but then you let the _them_ in," shot the condescending retort. "They are not worthy of knowing our secrets. We have the power." He spun on Godric. "And you are constantly weakening it with these interlopers, these Mudbloods!"

"They are not interlopers. They have the same talents as you or I." Rowena broke in with feeling.

"Hardly," Slytherin sniffed derisively. He stared pointedly at each of his fellow founders.

Both Rowena and Helga shifted to stand by Godric. They stood as a wall in front of the serpent wizard, unflinching under his piercing eyes. "We are tired your stubborn hostility," Godric pushed out. It had begun to drizzle outside.

"And I am tired of suffering your blind stupidity." He drew himself up to his full height. "Since you cannot see reason, I hereby withdraw my support of this disgraceful excuse for a school."

Whipping his cloak about him, Salazar Slytherin marched toward the door. As his hand reached for the handle, he dramatically paused. His back still to them, he vowed in a low, fury-filled voice, "But my power shall not leave with me. I shall seal up my Chamber of Secrets, and it shall lie in wait until you have all died." Slytherin glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes menacing, "Then it will call to my heir, and he shall come and cleanse this place of those you so foolishly teach with its terror." Eyes still on them, he turned the handle and swung the door wide.

But his retreat was frozen by Rowena. "Stop." Her voice sounded out harshly against the storm inside and outside the castle. Her usually bright face was impassive, and her eyes were glassy, staring at something none of them could see. Raising a stiff pointed finger at Slytherin, she began to Speak, as the boots of a marching army, hard and pounding ever louder:

"Lay the way for your heir

And ours will surely follow

Never shall Slytherin appear

That Griffindor will not also.

For years without number,

Two houses shall struggle;

Heir will fall upon heir

Wizard upon muggle.

When the serpent will rise

As a cobra to strike,

The lion as a phoenix will find

His wings and take flight

To the hollows where

Sleeps an ancient power;

And heirs chosen by blood

Will face the furor.

One house to taste death;

The other to fade away,

But Fate shall keep thy vow

And there will come a day

When the face of death will return

To finish plans unraveled.

Then the hidden shall be remembered

And the secret ways retraveled

By the heir who will be born

To end thy feud

And begin the age of

A dream renewed.

Rowena's arm dropped, and Slytherin's eyes narrowed. He had paled visibly during the prophecy, but it did not move his heart, if he still had one. Straightening haughtily, he swept from the room in a fury of swirling black robes. The door's shutting bang was lost in sudden thunder rattling the windows and lightening flashing through the room.

In the stillness that followed, Rowena's voice continued as it had before:

"Beware the serpent's venom,

For it knows no master.

Only the brothers obey

The true heirs and casters.

Guard closely the secrets

Within the hall of fire

For the heir who will seek

To find what is required.

Courage will have wings;

Watch for the lion's flight,

The higher the serpent rises

The harder the lighting will strike."

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so what do you think? shall I quit my day job and open up a future telling shop? review! review! maybe then Mirax will write the story this prequels! hint, hint, nudge, nudge. :)


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